


Consequences

by Erenn



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Gen, ignores comic canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 04:55:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13919808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erenn/pseuds/Erenn
Summary: Osiris cannot continue the way he is without consequences. Ikora knows this.  The Speaker knows this.  The question is, what can they do about it?  (Ignores Fall of Osiris canon)





	Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all so I hate the Fall of Osiris comic with every fiber of my being because the Speaker is my son and I don't feel like he was done justice. In fact I don't think Osiris was done justice either but that's a whole other can of worms. Anyway this is a small fic of a conversation between Ikora and the Speaker that tries to show the actual nuance of the situation.
> 
> This was written in half an hour fueled by pure salt. I hope I did the characters justice (especially Ikora bc gods that comic didn't portray her right imo)
> 
> The version of the Speaker used here is my own interpretation of the character. This was also posted to my tumblr

“Ikora,” the Speaker says warmly as the younger Warlock enters the Observatory. “Thank you for coming. I am sorry to pull you away from your duties, especially at a time like this.”

Osiris’ apprentice looks nervous, and he does not blame her. Especially with the responsibilities she has had to take up. The Fallen are only a week away, marching on the City en-masse, and their Vanguard Commander is nowhere to be found. Lost in his own...obsession. Stirring up conflict in the City at a time when they need unity the most.

The doors close behind her, and she glances back, her Ghost’s nodes shifting nervously from where he hovers over her shoulder. The Speaker’s own Ghost gives a sigh, noting their obvious discomfort. **[“Relax. You’re not in trouble.”]**

Ikora’s shoulders sag a bit, the tension easing out of them, and she stands up straighter, her expression morphing into one of professionalism. “What’s this about, Speaker?”

He sighs, his shoulders slumping a bit, looking away from Ikora briefly to glance out over the Traveler, the City. Everything looks peaceful from up here, as if nothing is wrong. But that’s far from the case. The Fallen are marching on their walls en-masse and the people are in a state of panic while the Guardians prepare.

And where is their Vanguard Commander?

Everywhere but where he’s supposed to be, apparently.

His former apprentice has lost his way. And while he sees what he is trying to do, this is neither the time nor the place for it. So they must do what has to be done.

Does he want to? Does he take any pleasure in stripping his former apprentice of everything he’s worked so hard for? No. But they cannot continue like this.

“You and I both know what this is about,” the Speaker says forlornly, turning back to Ikora again. She says nothing, but her expression says more than any words could ever say. “How goes the coordinating of the Warlock Orders?”

“I will have to ask Osiris-”

“Ikora.” He holds up a hand, shaking his head. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know you’re covering for him.”

She sighs, as if she’s been expecting this conversation. In all honesty, she probably has. “Someone had to,” she says firmly. “His...research is very important, Speaker.”

“Yes...his research. Vex simulations and timelines. Did any of his research tell us the Fallen would be marching on our doorstep?”

“I...I don’t know. He never mentioned anything of the sort.”

“Hmph.” He folds his hands behind his back, pacing in front of her. He’s trying to hide his own anxiety about the entire situation - Osiris has been a valuable asset, especially after his actions at Six Fronts. But that was then. What has he done recently but obsess over the Vex? “Research is important. And maybe he’s right. Maybe these...simulations he speaks of could help us predict the future. But the thing about the future is that it is always in motion. But what good is all of that if it turns their attention on us? Right now they largely ignore us, unless we are on Mars or Venus or Mercury. Osiris speaks of the Vex as a threat, but what good is all of that, what good is all this talk of the future, if the very real threat in the present is ignored? If we ignore this threat there will be no future.”

Ikora is silent for a few moments, a conflicted expression on her face. Her Ghost looks between the Speaker and his Ghost, as if trying to read them. The older Warlock sighs, taking a few steps closer to the two of them. “Ikora…”

Ikora closes her eyes briefly, then opens them. “It’s not,” she admits. “He’s obsessed, Speaker. I couldn’t pull him away, even to talk about the defense of the City. He just told me the Vex are the real threat.”

**[“He and Sagira barely even acknowledge our presence anymore,”]** Ikora’s Ghost says, sounding insulted on the behalf of both him and his Guardian. And though Osiris may not think so, it is an insult. It’s easy to see that Ikora Rey is brilliant, well respected among all Guardians.

The Speaker sighs. So this is what it comes down to. Osiris won’t even listen to his own apprentice. “Something must be done.”

“But what?! Speaker, I know he has lost his way, but-”

He holds up a hand, and she falls silent. He sighs. This entire situation is giving him a headache. He hates putting her in a position like this, where she must choose between the people she loves and her duty to the City.

“I know you care greatly about him. He is your mentor. He was my apprentice, too. But we can both see how far he has fallen. We need our Vanguard Commander now more than ever. And he is simply not there.”

“I know.” The words are like an admission of guilt, Ikora’s carefully crafted expression falling. She has had to be so strong for so long, to carry the burden that shouldn’t be hers.

“You’ve been coordinating the Warlock Orders, and have handled the responsibility with grace. I would ask that you continue to do so, for the time being,” the Speaker says, moving forward to place a hand on her shoulder.

She doesn’t shrug him off, instead looking straight at him, as if she could see his expression through his mask. If she could, she’d see a million different emotions. Anger, sorrow, regret. He closes his eyes briefly and sighs, drawing his free hand down over his mask.

“And what of Osiris?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

The Speaker sighs again, tearing his gaze away from Ikora’s. “I need your help, Ikora. You are the one person he may still listen to. And if not him, I know Sagira values your input.”

“I don’t think he’ll listen to anyone at this point. Not even me,” Ikora admits quietly. She sighs and pulls away from him, pinching the bridge of her nose, eyes closing briefly. He can’t imagine how frustrated she is, to have her own mentor brush her off. Someone she was supposed to be able to rely on. “What do we do in the meantime?”

The Speaker sighs. This is the part that will be the hardest, for both of them. He folds his hands in front of him, and she stands only a few feet away, a questioning look on her face. But her eyes are full of conflict. He can see worry, anger, and doubt in them. And he doesn’t blame her one bit.

“I have spoken with the other members of the Vanguard and the faction leaders,” he says, and Ikora makes a noise of surprise. A Consensus meeting that Osiris wasn’t invited to. “Off the record. For now, we have agreed to strip Osiris of his role as Vanguard Commander and Warlock Vanguard.”

Ikora gives a deep, long sigh. She knew this was coming. They both did. **[“Who will coordinate the defense of the City?”]** her Ghost asks, his nodes shifting and voice full of worry.

“Lord Saladin has stepped up as temporary Vanguard Commander for the duration of this crisis. And you have done a fine job coordinating the Warlock Orders in his place. I would ask you continue to do so.”

She straightens, and in that moment he is proud of her. She has stepped up when no one else has, in a time of deep conflict both in the City and outside it. She will make a fine Warlock Vanguard, when this is all over. “It would be my honor.”

“I know you will do the job well,” the Speaker replies warmly, placing both his hands on her shoulders, and she gives the smallest of smiles. But then she is all business.

“Something still needs to be done about Osiris.”

“Go to him. Try to make him see sense, and inform him of what we and the Consensus have discussed here. If he refuses to see reason, further action may be required.”  
Ikora nods firmly, but there’s conflict in her eyes again. They both know what “further action” means. And neither of them want to do that. But something unspoken passes between them at that moment. Sacrifices must be made, even at great personal cost.

For the good of the City.

He lets his hands fall off her shoulders, and then she’s all business, nodding to him respectfully. “I will go to him immediately. Hopefully, he will at least see reason.”

They both know their fellow Warlock is too stubborn to do such a thing.

“Take a contingent of Guardians with you, just in case. He always has those...cultists, hanging around him. As much as he dislikes them, he does little to dissuade them. We don’t know how they’ll react. And...thank you, Ikora.”

She nods to him, and he motions for his Ghost to open the doors. She strides with purpose out into Tower North, and he watches her go, both pride and sorrow in his eyes beneath the mask.

Nothing will be the same after this.

 

The doors close behind Ikora and her Ghost, and they’re alone in the Observatory once more. The mask and cowl are removed and the Speaker draws a hand down over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and giving a long sigh, his other hand running through his long white hair. A nervous habit.

**[“Vadim,”]** his Ghost says, speaking his name in the quiet of the Observatory, with just the two of them, her tone hesitant. **[“Are we doing the right thing?”]**

Vadim gives a sigh, his hazel eyes flickering to his Ghost before they both turn to look out over the City. “I hope so, Maria. I hope so.”


End file.
